University of Virginia Library

THE LAST SOJOURN.

Milano! why is thy very name suggestive of so
many and such affecting associations? The luxuriance
and fertility amid which Napoli is reared, the
mellow air of antiquity that broods over the Eternal
city, Firenze's picturesque beauty, Venezia's unique
aspect—these attractions are not thine. Assuredly
in thy sister cities there is more to interest, more to
admire, more to delight a retrospective ideality.
True, at the coming on of evening, one may gaze
unweariedly upon the equipages of thy nobility and
the beauty of thy daughters, as they pass in dazzling
succession along the Corso, and wonder not that
thy modern conqueror called thee his second Paris.
True, thy splendid marmoreal cathedral, with its
clustering spires, its countless statuary adornments,
its magnificent proportions and Gothic solemnity—
true, thy cathedral is a tabernacle wherein to linger,

rejoice and feel; and the richly-wrought chapel beneath,
with the corse of Carlo Borromeo, in its crystal
coffin, is a marvellously gorgeous sepulchre, and
the broad white roof above, whence the eye glances
over the blue range of distant mountains and verdant
plains of Lombardy, is no ordinary observatory.
And then, again, one who loves to lose himself in
mystic musings, may stand in the bare and deserted
refectory of Santa Maria della Grazia, and ponder
the mouldering remnant of Leonardo's genius,—
tracing the fretted outlines of the forms and faces
revered, that are clustered around the `Last Supper;'
and if it rejoice one to behold the very poetry of
physical life radiated from inanimate matter, he may
note the sinewy forms, nervous limbs, distended
nostrils, and arching necks of the bronze steeds at the
Simplon Gate; ay, and one may beguile an hour at
the Gallery of Art, were it only in perusing the
countenance of Hagar, as she turns away from her
home at the bidding of Abraham, as depicted by the
pencil of Guercino; or study the relics preserved
in the Ambrosian Library; or sit, on a festa day, beneath
the spreading chestnuts of the public gardens,
surrounded by fair forms and gay costumes, while
the air is rife with the inspiring instrumental harmony
of the Austrian band. But is it the memory
of such ministrations alone that makes the thought
of thee, Milano, what it is to me? No: I revert with
fondness to thy level precincts and mountain-bound
environs, because there the air of Italia was last
inhaled—there her melody died away upon my ear—
there was my last sojourn in Italy.

The lapse of a few hours in Milan, sufficed to
indicate that something unusual was occupying and
interesting the public mind. The caffés echoed the
tones of earnest discussion; shrugs, nods, and expressive
gesticulations were lavished with even more
than Italian prodigality; dark eyes beamed with
expectancy; the favoured votaries of amusement
had something like a business air about them; the
tradesmen loitered longer in by-way converse; the
journals teemed with eloquent and controversial articles;
pamphlets were distributed, and placards
posted. You might have deemed that the period so
vividly described by Manzoni when the Milanese
were agitated by the factions which contended so
long and warmly, years gone by, about the price
of bread, had returned, but that the prevailing
language of the present popular feeling was that of
pleasure—of enthusiasm, rather than passion—of
common anticipation, rather than discordant interests.
An American might have augured, from the
signs of the time, that a strongly contested election
was proceeding; and a Parisian would probably have
discerned the incipient elements of a revolution; but
the cause of the excitement was such as could produce
similar visible effects no where but in Italy;
and no one but an Italian, or a familiar denizen of
the land, could perfectly appreciate the phenomena.
The title-page of one of the newly issued publications

reveals the ostensible circumstance which is at
the bottom of the social agitation; `La Malibran
à Milano'—yes, the renowned Malibran had been
unexpectedly engaged to give three representations
of an opera, in which Pasta---the beloved of the Milanese,
had been performing with what they deemed
inimitable excellence. Long before the period designated,
the boxes of the Scala were secured; and
many an ardent sojourner, and unprovided native,
anxiously awaited the period when the other parts
of the house would be thrown open for general and
indiscriminate appropriation.

When at length the eventful evening arrived, the
descending chandelier revealed an impatient multitude
that, five hours previous, had taken possession of
the parterre. Maria Louisa was a prominent occupant
of the court box; and Pasta, in the intense interest
of the occasion, leaned over and followed with a
keen gaze, the form of her rival, till it disappeared
behind the scenes. Throughout the brilliant assemblage,
convened in that splendid edifice, there was
alternately profound silence or resounding acclamations;
and five times, at the close, did the bravissima
donina obey the call, and come forth to receive
their rapturous plaudits. It was with a melancholy
emotion, almost oppressive, that I remembered, on
leaving the house, at the close of the last evening,
that for me this beautiful magic was to cease. I felt
that harmony, such as never before blessed my ears,
was to enliven me no more; that, like a summer

breeze, it had borne its cool refreshment, it had
wafted its odorous perfume, it had awakened its
note upon the harp of the spirit, and had flown on
to cheer some other and more distant sojourner.

Awhile before the Diligence started, I once more
entered the cathedral. The noon-day sun was streaming
through the stained glass of the windows, and a
few priests were chanting at the altar. Scating myself
beneath one of the lofty arches, and viewing again
the gothic grandeur and rich tressil-work around
me, I yielded to the overwhelming reveries of the
hour. I could not but feel that a few days of rapid
movement would take me, perhaps forever, from a
land which had calmly but deeply ministered to my
happiness, and gradually but surely gained upon my
love. There was an earnest reluctance, a rebellion
of the strong desires, a painful intermission in the
cherished train of emotion, at this renouncement of
objects endeared by taste and habit. But especially
did my thoughts cling sadly and tenaciously around
what previous ideas and native sentiment had prepared
me most readily and fervently to love—humanity.
I felt that if the social activity and predominance
of mental endeavour which characterize
my own country were wanting here, yet that I had
known and experienced much of the true spirit of
fraternity, much of intellectual enthusiasm and generous
sentiment. I thought of the many hours of
quiet and innocent enjoyment, the instances of social
kindness, the offices of sympathy, and the spiritstirring

song, which had each and all opened fountains
of living joy in a young but anxious breast. I
realized in this hour of parting, how near and dear
the scenes and gratifications of Italy were to my
heart. The moral weaknesses and errors of the land
were not, indeed, absent from my mind; but, with
the thought of them, came also that of their causes,
their palliations, and hopes for their subjugation under
auspices fitted to cherish and develope the talent
and feeling worthy of human nature.

At about mid-day we departed, and were rapidly
carried along the rich plains, looking greener and
more fertile as we approached their termination.
Towards dusk the mountains rose sublimely in the
distance, and the beautiful and still surface of Lago
Maggiore was brilliantly revealed in the light of a
full moon; this landscape, indeed, feasted our eyes
during the early part of the night's ride, and fled
only when the broken slumbers obtainable in a Diligence,
veiled or rendered introspective our visions.
On leaving Domo d'Ossola, a scene was presented
in every respect a contrast with what the preceding
day's ride had displayed. Rugged mountains, snow-capt
and rock-bound, now rising abruptly, and now
gradually declining, here unclothed with aught umbrageous,
there supporting the clinging firs, sometimes
moist with dripping springs, and at others,
exhibiting a dry unbroken surface of granite. The
cold bleak points, hoary with snow, were ever above
us, the murmuring of falling water continually audible,

and some new combination of crude and aspiring
mountain, winding vale and chainless rock,
ever and anon, attracting the eye. Attention, too,
was often and irresistibly withdrawn from this chaotic
scenery to the immense product of human art,
of which we were so securely availing ourselves.
The precipices on either side, the rough-hewn grottoes
through which we passed, the ever-varying and
yet ever wild and solitary aspect of all around, evidenced
that we were upon the Simplon. For some
time after the moon had again arisen, the foaming
waters of the Rhone were seen glancing like molten
silver in her beams. After leaving Martigny, the
Pissevache fall was in view; its misty and graceful
form, even at that early hour, crowned with rainbow
hues; and beyond St. Maurice, another beautiful
object appeared—a long fleecy cloud, resting, spirit-like,
upon the centre brow of a lofty mountain. Ere
long, the broad and blue waters of Leman were in
sight, and our course lay along its shore, by the
castle of Chillon, and the villages of Vivey and
Lausanne. From the succeeding dawn until our
arrival at Geneva, we were riding in view of the
lake, rich and flower-decked meadows, beautiful villas,
and far-away, white and towering, the `awful and
sovran Blanc' met the eye, to kindle imaginative
visions of grandeur; to transport the beholder into
the beautiful valley at its base, within hearing of its
water-falls, and full in view of its congregated sublimity.
So magic-like did the versatile and effective
images collect and pass upon the mind's camera,
that it was not until the contrasted and magnificent
insignia of Switzerland thus completely
environed us, and the impressions thence derived
became continuous and absorbing, that I felt that
the staff of my pilgrimage was indeed reassumed,
and my sojourn in Italy ended.